


Climax

by baileyjoy3



Category: Daft Punk
Genre: Crydamoure!Guy - Freeform, Daddy Kink, Label!AU, M/M, Roule!Thomas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 15:38:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1653782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baileyjoy3/pseuds/baileyjoy3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crydamoure is gone when he wakes up, and the cycle repeats.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Climax

**Author's Note:**

> wow my summary skills. you'll realize what it is later i'll let you enjoy yourselves. random label!au smut simply because i write literally nothing but smut. there is a gif this is based off of and you can find it on frenchrobotporn on tumblr. it's probably tagged label au idk. i don't feel like linking it rn. so yeah enjoy the random label!au and this takes a weird turn from what i originally planned but the ending kinda brings it back together soooo. daddy kink is really brief so don't worry. roule's fucked up and crydamoure is a dick, what else is new.

It's a pity fuck, Roule knows that better that better Crydamoure probably does. Even if Crydamoure initiated, it's still Roule that accepts the idea better. And in all honesty, he can't be bothered to care. He's hurting, aching, miserable about something he can't remember and he's going to drown that in the sexy heavy smell of Crydamoure. It's really all that he wants and forces once in their lives, Crydamoure is offering- he's willing to let Roule slam into him, even if he huffs and mutters the suggestion.

"I guess we can fuck, if that'll make you feel better?" Crydamoure looks like this is an issue for him, something that is taking away his time just by suggesting it, but he likes sex? Doesn't he? It's a little heart wrenching- is he that much of a problem to him? Does he really think so little of him? Crydamoure is an unreadable creature and Roule wants to bury himself in his skin and never let him go. It's unhealthy and disgusting but the pink flush of his cheeks and the way his eyes fill with tears when he pouts is enough to drive him crazy. He knows he can be good for him, knows that he can live him better than anyone else, if only he'd let him.

Roule _hates_ how easily Crydamoure passes himself off to others and yet refuses to even allow Roule a chance. He's better than anyone else he's ever laid eyes on. He can give Crydamoure his all and for some reason he just won't take it.

Crydamoure approaches him, pushing his hands into his curls and settling into his lap, his mouth curling devious when he plops down. Roule swallows, unsure of the boundaries and catches the minute flicker in Crydamoure expression at his hesitation. He grabs his hips hard then, satisfaction blooming in his chest when Crydamoure purrs at him, sliding his hands to his jaw. He traces a thumb over Roule's lips which he easily parts in return, watching Crydamoure as he sucks his thumb into his mouth. It's horrible the way he practically melts, a giddy laugh exploding from his mouth and tears trickling down his cheeks.

He's stunning when he cries.

Roule lifts him and carries him toward his bedroom, hands tight on his ass, possessive of what's he's been rewarded with, despite the fact he won't be losing it anytime soon. Crydamoure giggles happily, continuing to touch Roule's face like a perfectly sculpted statue, a work of art. It's Crydamoure features that are Adonis like, Roule thinks, clenching his teeth for a moment. The thought he has ruins the image he's been creating in his head.

"Can I kiss you?"

Crydamoure's expression flickers, lame dissatisfaction. "If you want to. However personal you want it to be."

Roule wants it to be like they've never had anyone else, but that's too much to ask for with such little given time. There's no way to change that part. But he has Crydamoure in his house, on his bed, under him. Possession. Roule wants to own him, claim him, love him better than anyone else. This attraction is overwhelming and gut punch critical. It makes his stomach hurt. In the end, he decides to give it to Crydamoure better than anyone else. He'll make him love him.

"Strip," he commands, swallowing a groan when Crydamoure licks his lip. He's filthy and Roule wished he was the one who had brought that side of him out. He knows that Crydamoure has a Daddy kink, but he's not going to do that yet. He wants something stable before throwing in crazy things that can flip it all about.

It takes a few minutes to get settled. Crydamoure pulls off his T-shirt and jeans, tight around his cock that's starting to get hard in his underwear. It's beautiful upon exposure and Roule wants it in his mouth. They divest shoes and socks, Roule having a bit harder of a time in handling the stripling due to his attire. Suits and pants and ties and everything else that comes with business and it takes them another five minutes to get settled. But it's worth it because Crydamoure's hands touch every inch of his skin that get exposed layer by layer. They push across his chest and down his stomach, flexing over his abs and Roule wished that it was because he was attracted to him. They're friends for reasons he can't remember off the top his head and Crydamoure tolerates him.

Roule tosses his pants off the bed and surges forward, unable to help himself anymore. He steals his mouth, hungry and needy. He's a good lay, he knows that, he just hopes Crydamoure will see it for something more, that his passion for this stems deeper. This is the worst way to ruin their friendship, he knows it. But he wants so bad; how is he supposed to stop himself with what he's been offered?

Crydamoure kisses him back, grabbing fistfuls of his hair and throwing his hips up to grind against him. He's pushing things fast, past a point of intimacy. This is how he fucks everyone. Roule shoves it down, that ultimate feeling of rejection and bites his lips, panting out his nose as he takes his tongue to suck. Crydamoure watches him through half lidded eyes, grinning slightly before pushing on his head to start kissing him again.

His hips are working in tandem with his tongue, a sickening combination that makes Roule's head swim and slide into baser urges. He sets a knees up in place of his crotch, letting him grind on that as he pulls back from the kiss. Crydamoure whines at him, hands still in his hair.

"Let go," he growls, and Crydamoure behaves, licking his lips in delight. "What do-" He forces himself past the nervous stutter, jerking his chin up to stare down at him. "What do you say?"

"Thank you," he replies easily, grinding on his leg, mouth curling deviously because he knows Roule is dirty and disgusting and he loves it. Roule can try as hard as he wants, things will always go back to his basic needs. Roule swallows because Crydamoure is a picture of debauchery and those tears are starting again.

"Thank you, 'who'?"

"Daddy," Crydamoure quips and slides his fingers over his mouth, pulling at his lips and sucking on them. Roule's cock twitches in delight and his stomach churns in disgust at himself. Why did he think this was a good idea? Why did he think a fucking snap decision to fuck him was a good idea?

"And what do you want Daddy to do for you?"

It gives him the control. Roule can only fake it; the hard business man routine is to keep people out and to scare, it's not him. He can't do this and he can feel his chest tightening with the threat of a panic attack. Wouldn't that be hot? Passing out in the middle of sex, of course. Crydamoure arches a bit, a happy noise escaping his lips.

"Fuck me, Daddy, please? I've been good, Daddy; promise."

Roule doesn't need the verification of that statement. He lunges forward again, kissing him hard and domineering, biting his lips and tongue, too rough to be good. Crydamoure pants in delight, gasping and pawing his shoulders, a shiver running down his spine. He thrusts up at his leg, whining when it's removed legs spread away and hips not dropped down for him. He's going into autopilot now, doing what he does to get what he needs. There doesn't need to be an attraction.

"Daddy, please-"

He jerks away, panting because that's not his name and Crydamoure should be whining his name, he gave him an out to saying his name, fuck, this is his fault. Roule sucks in a sharp breath, leaning away to fumble through the drawers by his bed to snatch free lube and a condom. Crydamoure can see his expression, the tightness of his brows, the way his chest moves too fast for simple kissing.

"Roule, relax."

He stops entirely, his hands dropping the things he'd grab in favor of shaking without control. His chest heaves and he gets no air, he can't breath- Roule sits back on his knees, panting for air, gasping and unsure of where to put his hands. He squeezes his eyes shut, choking when he tries to swallow-

"Roule!" Crydamoure sits up, grabbing his face, concern written across his features. He's going to cry, he can't actually care- Crydamoure smiles softly when he opens his eyes, still breathing shakily. "It's just sex, Roule, relax."

Roule grabs his hands on his face, holding them in place, his stomach churning, this is the worst decision he could ever make- "I don't want it to be just sex. I- I can't be casual with you, Crydamoure, I have to have you all." He blinks in surprise, startled by the words. "I need all of you. I can't fuck you and move on like a cheap whore; I want more than that," he mutters, curling his fingers around Crydamoure's, swallowing and dropping his gaze.

Crydamoure sits there for a moment, hands still on Roule's face, his own expression shocked. He swallows and glances back at him, the dejected puppy face that makes him look younger and more tired than he is. Roule needs him. Crydamoure can easily give himself to him, he knows it would work, but the sacrifices of everything else? Can he be satisfied with only him? It's nothing he's done before.

"I can't promise it's going to work, Roule, you crybaby." He flinches, gripping Crydamoure's hands tighter when he should be letting them go. "I'm not a committed kind of person," he continues, leaning forward to kiss the edge of his lips. He lifts his head slightly, following him for another, gentle kiss. Crydamoure chuckles softly and returns the favor, sitting and just kissing him softly for a moment. It's nothing he's used to. His clients don't generally have panic attack about liking him. Roule's case is probably more serious than that anyway; he won't breach the topic to soon.

"Finish what you started and we can talk, alright?" Roule's nod against his lips, brushing them together, stealing more kisses- he's alright now. Crydamoure breathes into his mouth, shutting his eyes a bit as Roule pushes him back slowly, lowers him down, still close.

Intimate is the word he's looking for. Roule kisses his cheek, his lips, licks them, his bottom lip only before moving to his jaw, kissing and sucking gently on the smooth skin there. Crydamoure's femininity doesn't allow for facial hair, not like Roule's stubble. He sits back eventually though, fingers searching and finding the lube again, popping the cap quickly.

Roule sits back and grabs Crydamoure about his ankles, lifting them over his shoulders. He sighs when Roule kisses them, shutting his eyes. He's given him permission now, he's comfortable. It's not what he usually has, but Roule will be worth it either way. He can't deny on a clean conscious that he hasn't thought about this. It was considerably rougher with more spanking and dirty talk, but maybe that will come later. Maybe when they're more comfortable with each other. Crydamoure looks forward to it, the possible future.

Roule spreads him open slow and tender, two fingers slowly pressing and stretching him apart. He doesn't let him have enough to enjoy like he's getting off, but it still feels so good. He pants, whining loud and high when Roule gets close to his prostate but never touching it directly. His legs tighten and squeeze over his shoulder. He's begging quietly, urging him to give him more. Roule doesn't though, he tortures him until he's sobbing for it, tears running down his cheeks.

He lowers his legs back down gently, leaning forward to lick his tears from his cheeks, running a hand up his stomach as he rips the condom open with the other one. He slides it on single handedly, a feat Crydamoure hasn't seen many people do. Roule nips his lips gently, sitting back to adjust him and-

"Oh, _fuck_ , why have you kept this from me?"

Roule laughs, actually laughs as he slides in, settling to the hilt and bottoming out inside of Crydamoure when he moans. It's a beautiful sight to finally see. He leans forward, sliding a hand under Crydamoure's shoulder and the other under his head, holding to his hair. Crydamoure lifts his legs to wrap behind his back, struggling and slipping apart a bit. Roule kisses him when he thrusts the first time, catching his moan in his mouth. It's clear that he loves this, loves sex in any form. Roule wants to give it to him better than any other.

He curls his hand over the top of his head, kissing down his jaw to his neck, his hips working at a steady pace now.  Crydamoure moans, his mouth working, brows drawn in pleasure. He's too attracted, he can't not do this. He thrusts in, kissing his neck, sucking on the skin there, closing his teeth around it. Crydamoure gasps when he bites down, sucking a bright hickey onto his throat, making him. He's possessive and Crydamoure cries out because he pairs it with a hard thrust, yanking out and shoving back in, Crydamoure's legs bouncing on his back.

Roule's in his zone now, pounding into Crydamoure who's crying again. He keeps kissing and licking the tears away, his chest tightening at their shape. He knows they don't take form like that unless he's really enjoying himself. He's not brutal, but he's hard, not giving him a break. It's good and tight and Crydamoure is so receptive. He doesn't want anyone else. He won't take anyone else. Crydamoure is stuck with him and if the little pants of his name are anything to go by, he won't abandon him anytime soon.

"Roule, shit, baby, oh god-"

Roule stutters over the pet name, groaning into Crydamoure's shoulder, huffing because Jesus, that's more than he could have asked for.

"Touch yourself," he growls lowly, bucking hard again. Crydamoure behaves, grabbing his cock with one hand while the other reaches to clutch Roule's shoulder. He arches, thrusting into the tight grip on his cock. There's nothing special about this, other than how close Roule is to him, his face buried in his neck, leaving hickeys down him and beard burn. He pulls on himself, moaning and cursing Roule's name, shouting when he gets closer.

Roule needs him to cum, but Crydamoure has to come first. He wants to feel it happen, wants to be inside of him, God, he wishes he hadn't worn the condom. It's a filthy desire but he wants to own him. Roule wants to come inside him, claim him as his own and never let him go. It's disgusting and Roule thrusts harder, slamming into him.

Crydamoure screams when he comes, like orgasming is that good. His body frees and the noise dies out when the aftershocks pass through, his body shivering, his stomach coated in cum. There's some on Roule's chest and potentially on his chin; he can't tell if it's sweat or cum. He gasps when Roule keeps pounding, his body over sensitized. Crydamoure lays there, legs still up, body still receptive and Roule kissed him hard. Crydamoure returns it, feverish and needy, gasping his name into his mouth.

Roule loses it when he says it loud and clear. He buries into him, groaning and shaking, clutching Crydamoure closer to him. He pants his name into his ear and Crydamoure moans back at him. They're both a mess and Roule laughs breathlessly. He pulls out with a shaking exhale, moaning as he rolls off of Crydamoure. He peels off the condom and sits up, standing to walk in shaky legs to the trash can and toss it away. He glances in the mirror on the wall as he makes his way back to the bed.

"Huh, that is your cum on my chin."

Crydamoure lifts a lazy brow, his eyes shut and his hand draped over his face. That was good. He's actually exhausted. Usually he gets up and leaves after sex, abandoning his partner in favor of getting drunk. But he's tired. And Roule's expensive bed is warm and comfortable. "You alright with that?"

"It's fine. There's more on my stomach." This is casual, too casual and Roule swallows. He wanders back to the bed and grabs the blanket from the end of it. He throws it over them and curls toward Crydamoure, sliding a hand into his hair, turning his head. Crydamoure goes along with it, rolling up to rest against his chest. Roule pets through his hair, kissing his forehead nervously. Crydamoure shoves at his chest and huffs when he blinks in surprise.

"Quit second guessing yourself and cuddle me or go sleep somewhere else because I'm sleeping here."

Roule blinks because okay, demanding much and this is his bed anyway. He's going to sleep in it. His brain also unconsciously supplies that he'll wake Crydamoure up with a blow job. He swallows and wraps his arm around Crydamoure instead of thinking about that idea. Roule's hand slides into Crydamoure's hair again, slightly possessive, but it's grounding.

"When are we going to talk about this?"

"I don't think we need to," Crydamoure muses sleepily. He squeaks when Roule tugs on his hair.

"We need to talk."

Crydamoure huffs and buries into Roule and the blanket, drawing his legs up to tangle them with Roule's. "Fine, talking. When I wake up." That seems to please Roule who sighs into his hair and shuts his eyes.

It's not going to work, he knows it won't.

 

**  
  
**Crydamoure is gone when he wakes up, and the cycle repeats.


End file.
